


Essence of Mourning

by GreenBryn



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Everybody mourns in their own way, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, If you have a blood-kink I highly doubt this will satisfy it, If you have a blood-squick this may trigger it, It's not bloodplay, M/M, Slash, just... licking of blood, major angst, timeline btvs: s7
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-06-20
Updated: 2005-06-20
Packaged: 2018-09-16 14:51:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9276809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreenBryn/pseuds/GreenBryn
Summary: Right now all Xander wants to do is rest and mourn Anya. He wishes he had some token of hers, some memento to remember her by, but he doesn't. Everything she touched is now dust at the bottom of the crater.





	

**Author's Note:**

> My god. I wrote a Xander pairing that doesn't involve Spike. I must be stopped immediently ^_~ Was watching the last ep and there's that darn plotbunny, nibbling at my toes. Shoo, bunny. Go away.

Originally posted at: [Spikess](http://brynspikess.livejournal.com/120107.html).

 **Title** : Essence of Mourning (1/1)  
**Author** : Dea Brynhild Ensomhet Spikess  
**Timeline** : The night after "Chosen"  
**Rating** : PG-13 verging on R.  
**Pairing** : It's Xandrew, but with the memory of Anya haunting it.  
**Disclaimer** : Don't own any of the Buffy cast/crew/characters/plotlines/etc.  
**Author's Notes** : My god. I wrote a Xander pairing that doesn't involve Spike. I must be stopped immediently ^_~ Was watching the last ep and there's that darn plotbunny, nibbling at my toes. Shoo, bunny. Go away.  
**Warning** : Major angst. Slash. If you have a blood-squick, this may trigger it. If you have a blood-kink, I highly doubt this will satisfy it. It's not bloodplay, just... licking of blood. Unbetaed, so point out mistakes and I'll fix them.

~*~

It's over. He can't really believe it. Months of planning, worrying, and training, and the battle is done. Insignificant details like how to get a job and a car are growing in importance at the back of his mind, but he's ignoring them. Right now all Xander wants to do is rest and mourn Anya. He wishes he had some token of hers, some memento to remember her by, but he doesn't. Everything she touched is now dust at the bottom of the crater.

They pull into an Holiday Inn a couple hours away. Everyone is about to collapse; it's a miracle that they made it this far. The hotel is close enough to Sunnydale that it was abandoned when people moved away, but a swift kick makes the front door swing wide open for them. It hadn't been raided yet, the rooms slightly dusty, but clean and full with the usual hotel stuff. Each of the potentials get their own room - a welcome change from the cramped quarters of the Summers' home, although he notices that Buffy and Dawn are taking one of the two-bed rooms, and Kennedy paired off with Willow into a king-size bedroom. He and Andrew wind up with rooms next to each other, and they walk side by side towards their rooms. Most of the girls are trying to find something in the hotel's kitchen to eat, and he last saw Giles and Wood looking for the hotel's bar for a celebratory drink. He's afraid to touch the stuff, worried that he'll crawl into a bottle and not come out. Sleep is a better option. Andrew's never been much of a drinker, and the kid looks more in shock than hungry. Xander isn't hungry either, just kind of numb. Anya will never eat ice cream or smile again, and the depression is crushing him.

Andrew's room comes up first and he pauses, looking nervously at Xander. "C-can I..." he swallows hard and tries again, "Can I stay with you? I don't really want to be by myself."

Xander takes a deep breath as he prepares to turn him down, and the faintest whiff of Anya's perfume wafts over him. It hurts and it thrills and for a split second it's almost like she's with him again. The kid was with her in her last moments; her scent clings to him. Xander's decision is made. "Sure."

They go into Xander's room quietly, neither really in the mood for conversation. Exhaustion is catching up and they shed torn and blood-splattered clothing on their way to the bed until they're only in boxers, Xander automatically crawling in on the left side. Andrew takes the right by default, and they don't say a word as the lights are turned out.

A while later Xander shifts in his sleep. The apartment is a little chilly. Anya must've turned up the A/C too much again before she went to bed. She's whimpering a little, probably having a nightmare about growing old or bunnies or something. He drowsily rolls over and pulls her into his arms, curling into her warmth. Her whimpers trail off and she sighs, unconsciously snuggling deeper into his embrace. He nuzzles her hair, her perfume soothing him as he falls deeper asleep.

It's early in the morning when Xander wakes up. For a moment he thinks he's holding Anya, but then reality slams down. He untangles himself from Andrew and goes into the bathroom, shutting the door before turning on the harsh flourescent light. He looks horrible in the mirror, dirty and ragged around the edges, his face wearing a haggard expression. The eyepatch slid off during the night and must be back in the sheets somewhere. For several heartbeats he stares into the empty socket, comparing his small loss with Anya's life.

A knock on the door startles him out of his thoughts, and the door slowly opens to reveal Andrew, shy and uncertain as always. "Xander? Are you all right?" Xander snorts at the ridiculous question. In one apocalypse he lost his eye, his love, and his hometown. How could he be all right? How could he ever be all right again? Andrew lowers his head, silently chastising himself for asking such a dumb question.

"I'm sorry. I'll just be... somewhere else." Andrew apologizes, and begins to close the door again.

Xander catches it before it can close very far. "Wait." Andrew looks up at Xander, unsure of what to do, of what Xander wants from him. The light makes Andrew's pale skin glow, and Xander notices streaks of dark red across his face and neck. "Is that...is that her blood?" Andrew nods, and Xander swallows hard. He reaches out hesitantly to touch and pauses, hand hovers scant inches away from Andrew's face. "Can I? Please?" The edge of desperation in his voice scares them both.

"Yes." Andrew whispers, and Xander touches him, fingertips stroking oh-so-lightly down his cheek and across his neck. Xander slowly moves closer to him, watching for any sign of unease from the younger boy, but Andrew stands still as a mouse before a snake, eyes fearful but willing to offer whatever comfort Xander needs.

Xander lowers his head and tentatively runs his tongue up the side of Andrew's throat, moistening the blood with his saliva and licking it off as he goes. Little kitten laps at the hollow of the throat, and he swirls his tongue around Andrew's adam's apple. Gotta collect every drop, can't let it go to waste. This is Anya's blood, her life essence, and the only thing Xander has left of her now. If he ingests it, then he can carry a small part of her inside him forever, and that's better than any trinket or souvenir.

Andrew can't help himself and he tilts his head back, eyes falling closed as he bites his lip to keep from moaning. His neck has always been ultra sensitive, and what Xander is doing is torture of the best kind. He tries to remember that this isn't supposed to be erotic, he's only helping Xander mourn, but he can't stop the little whimpers of pleasure that escape.

Xander pushes closer, nuzzling Andrew's neck as he licks, desperate to get every last trace of her blood from him. The push causes Andrew to stumble back a half-step, automatically reaching out and holding on to Xander's upper arms to keep himself from falling. Xander's arms wind around his waist, pulling him closer. Andrew relaxes, allowing himself to be moved to the bed as Xander works his way across his jawline. Before long Andrew is on his back, trying not to giggle or squirm too much as Xander licks across his eyelids and down his nose. His lips are last, parting under Xander's ministrations. Before either are really aware of it, they're kissing.

Hard, deep kissing, and Xander's body is heavy, pressing Andrew in to the bed, keeping him pinned in place. As if Andrew could leave now. His arms are around Xander's neck, and when he was squirming earlier his legs opened enough for Xander to lie between, so he bends his legs until his thighs hug Xander's hips, and it feels so fucking _right_ that Andrew moans. Xander's hips begin to buck gently against him, steady as an ocean wave, and Andrew's always loved the ocean even though he's never seen it. Still, he imagines it kind of like the Gulf of Mexico, which he swam in for the first time with Jonathon and it was one of the few good parts of being fugitives on the run and oh god please _don't stop!_ Andrew returns the motion, hips rocking up to counter Xander's rhythm, the simple contact easily sending Andrew's nerves haywire.

Little sounds of lust and wanting are escaping his throat, and he realizes that Xander is silent. He opens his eyes to see that Xander's eye is clenched shut, and he wonders if Xander is imagining Anya beneath him. His heart sinks as he remembers that this is just mourning and comfort, not some torrid tryst, but he'd determined to follow through with what he offered no matter how much it hurts to give it.

When morning comes, there's no sign that Xander had ever been there. Andrew dresses in clothes from the day before, and jips his jacket up when he notices that the motorcycle t-shirt is gone. He remembers the blood soaking into it, and he hopes that whatever Xander does with it brings him peace.

The End.


End file.
